


Good Samaritan

by clgfanfic



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair has to think positively</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Samaritan

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Mating Rituals #5 under the pen name Casey Squire.

For the umpteenth time Blair Sandburg paced across the worn cabin carpet, cursing himself for his stupidity.  He should have gone with Jim.

Staring intently at his watch, he let his gaze circumnavigate the dial with the second hand, once, twice, three times…   _Stop!_   He shook his head and drew in a deep breath, trying to gain a foothold against the rising tide of panic.  _If anything's happened to Jim…_

 _No_ , he stopped himself.  _I have to stop thinking like that.  Think positively_ , he commanded himself.

_But where is he?  Why hasn't he called?  Why did I let him go out alone?_

_That's not positive!_

Sandburg shoved the nearly overwhelming fear away and paced through the cabin again before coming to a stop by the large front window.  He peered out into the lightly falling snow, wishing he had Sentinel sight, or hearing, or something!

Nothing.

He spun and rushed back to the blazing fireplace, snatching his cellular phone off the mantle and punching out the number to Jim's phone.  He waited, shifting from foot to foot while it rang… and rang… and rang… and–

Sandburg realized Jim's phone was lying in the kitchen, the sound echoing with a taunting jingle.

"Great, just great."  He stabbed the release button and tried the precinct.  Static was the only reply.

He returned the cellular to the mantle and walked over to the cabin's touchtone phone to try again.  Captain Simon Bank's voice answered through the crackle of weather-induced static.  "Banks."

Sandburg sucked in a deep breath and asked, "Simon.  It's Blair.  Has Jim called?"

"Sandburg?"

"Yeah, I'm–"

"Sandburg, is something wrong?"

"I don't know," Blair explained, walking over to flop down on the well-worn couch. "Jim left the cabin about three hours ago to pick up some supplies and he's not back yet.  I'm starting to get worried, and–"

"Sandburg, if you're getting just half the weather we are Jim's probably stuck waiting for the snow to stop, or behind some plow."  It sounded like Sandburg was worried, but Ellison could take care of himself.  "Look, I thought Jim said you were picking up all the stuff you needed for this trip yesterday."

"I was going to, but I got called in to take over a class for another grad student who came down with the flu.  I couldn't do it, so Jim dropped me off here to get the cabin squared away and headed back down the mountain to get the food at the store just off the highway."

"Yeah, I know the place," Banks replied.  He usually stopped there when he and Daryl drove up to spend time at the cabin – one of the few luxuries he'd managed to save in the divorce settlement.  And he clearly remembered the roads – narrow, twisting, and steep.

Sandburg tried to stay calm.  He and Jim had come up to Simon's old cabin for a couple of days of uninterrupted time, communing with Mother Earth and exploring their changing relationship, but the weather hadn't been cooperative, snowing on and off for the last twelve hours.  Still, they'd braved the roads and arrived intact.  There could be any number of logical reasons why Jim was late getting back from the small store twenty miles away.

 _And plenty of bad ones, too_ , he fretted.  "Look, Simon, if Jim's not back in another hour–"

"Can't you reach him on his cellular?"

"No.  He left it here.  I thought he might've called you if there was something wrong and he didn't have the number here."

"Sandburg, he'd have called _your_ cellular!  But you're right, if he's not back an hour from now, call me back.  In the meantime, if you get a hold of him, or he shows up, call me so I can stop worrying.  Understand?"

"Sure, Simon.  And thanks," Sandburg said.  "I'm probably just overreacting."

"I'm sure he's fine, Blair."

"Yeah.  It's just the snow."

"An hour."

"Right," Blair said, hanging up and returning to the fireplace.  With nothing else to do, he added another log to the dying fire and silently commanded the detective to return – now!

He listened, but there was nothing save the crackling of the fire.  With a sigh, he sat down next to the warmth, drawing his knees and wrapping his arms around the heat-warmed denim.  Jim hadn't wanted to come to the cabin, but he'd insisted.  He needed some time alone with the man to explore their new relationship as lovers.  Things at the precinct were slow, even the bad guys capitulating to the lousy weather they'd been having.

He had pressed and Jim had reluctantly agreed.

 _But what if Jim was right?_ he cross-examined himself.  _What if Jim knew something was going to happen?  What if–_

"He's a Sentinel, not a psychic," Blair chastised himself, standing up.  "Just get a grip."

He tramped back across the cabin to the large picture window.  Worrying wasn't getting him anywhere, he was just making himself frantic.  Jim was a trained detective.  A trained soldier.  He could take care of himself.  Nothing was going to happen.  Nothing _could_ happen – not until  he figured this all out.  There was a perfectly logical reason for the delay.  There had to be.

_Where are you, Jim?_

The sound of snow crunching beneath tires jarred Sandburg out of his rapidly darkening thoughts and sent him hurrying to the door.  Yanking it open, he watched as Jim parked and exited the truck, jogging around to the back and pulling out two bags of groceries.

Holding the door open to admit the man, Blair realized just how much he loved the detective.  The realization sent a rush of joy and erotic warmth surging through his body, making his skin tingle and his cock swell.

"Sorry it took so long, Chief," Jim said as he entered.  His gaze dropped to the young man's well defined crotch.  "Glad to see me?"

"Yeah, I am," Blair replied.  "Where were you?"

"The road was a mess; snowplows hadn't cleared both lanes and there were a couple of accidents.  Nothing serious, but it made the drive back slower than I expected," Jim explained, heading for the kitchen and depositing the bags on the counter.  "And I found something when I turned off on the road to drive in here that I had to stop for.  And–"  He stopped, grinning.  "I'll go get it."

Blair opened his mouth to tell Jim how worried he'd been, but the words stalled under the influence of the man's silly grin.  He nodded, enjoying the relief that washed over him, returning his inner self to a happy, if slightly anxious calm.  He leveled a sheepish expression on the detective.  "I got a little worried when you didn't come back…  I, uh…  I called Simon."

"Simon?"

Sandburg shrugged.  "I didn't know what else to do."

Jim shook his head.  "Call him back, tell him we're fine and we'll see him on Monday morning if we're not snowed in," he instructed as he headed back outside to the truck.

Blair walked over to the touch-tone phone and dialed.  "Simon?"

"Yeah, is he back?" the captain asked.

"Just arrived.  It was the snow.  Sorry if I worried you.  I feel pretty stupid…"

"Better safe than sorry in this weather," Simon said, his tone more understanding than Blair had expected.  "You two be careful on the drive back."

"We will," Blair assured.  "And thanks, I–"

"Yeah, I know, you appreciate it.  Now, get off my line, Sandburg, I've got _work_ to do!"

Blair hung up with a grin, then walked back to the front door and watched while Jim pulled out another sack of groceries, tucked it under his arm, then wrestled a small wooden crate out of the back.  He balanced the half-full grocery bag on the crate to carry it all in.

"Hey, Chief, you think you're gonna melt if you help me?"

Sandburg blushed.  "Uh, no, of course not.  Sorry, Jim, I–"

"That's okay.  Go have a seat.  I've got something to show you."

Returning to the living room, Sandburg opted for the hearth in front of the fireplace and waited until Jim deposited the last bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, then carried the small crate over to the fireplace to join him.

"What is it?" Blair asked.

"Shhh," Jim said softly while he set the crate on the coffee table.  He opened the lid halfway, revealing a tiny raccoon stretched out and sleeping.  The animal's paws and whiskers twitched.

Sandburg's bright blue eyes widened.  "A raccoon?  Jim, are you crazy?  These things–"

"Whoa, Chief.  I found it all tangled up in some old wire," Jim explained.  "I couldn't just leave him out there, he'd freeze."

"Yeah," Blair said, fighting back the desire to reach in and pet the kit.  "I see your point, but we're not equipped to handle a raccoon emergency."  He glanced up at the detective, who was studying the tiny animal with a concerned frown.  So much for the big tough cop.

"Yeah, I know.  I'll take it to the local vet tomorrow morning.  The people at the general store should be able to give me directions."

Sandburg looked down at the fuzzy ball of fur with black points and ringed tail, then reached out to run a fingertip along the animal's silvery ribcage.  The kit's nose twitched, but he remained asleep.  "You think it's in shock?"

"I don't know.  He was lively enough when I was trying to get him in the box. Maybe he's just tired."

The concerned, almost boyish tone drew a smile from the anthropologist.  He reached out and squeezed Jim's shoulder.  "He'll be fine." He smiled.  "You're something else, you know."

Jim blushed.  "I couldn't just leave him out there–"

"Hey, you don't need to explain to me, man."

The two men stood, leaving the kit to his nap.  Jim made himself comfortable on the couch while Sandburg shifted the groceries from the bags into the cabinets and small refrigerator, then made coffee.  He filled two large mugs for them both, sugared Jim's, then carried both back to the living room to join his companion.

"You had me pretty worried there for a while," Blair said in a chastising tone as he held out the mug.  "You should've taken your cell so you could've called me."

Jim accepted the steaming cup.  "Sorry.  I tried calling from the store, but the lines were too wet.  There were a couple of accidents, and the snowplow was slow–"

"I'm just glad you're back," Blair interrupted, setting his cup down on the small coffee table and leaning back against the sofa.  "I hope you picked something the coon'll like."

Jim shrugged.  "I guess he can have some of the fruits and vegetables."

"Some of the tuna is more like it," Sandburg countered.

A loud crack and hissing sound echoed through the cabin a moment before the lights flickered and went dark.

"Sounds like we just lost our power," Jim stated matter-of-factly.  Beyond the frosted glass Jim could see the transformer hanging at an odd angle away from the pole.  "Looks like a short.  The ice probably got too heavy.  You really know when to head to the mountains, Chief."

"What do we do?" Blair asked.  "Won't it get too cold up here without the electricity?"

"We do nothing.  Same thing's probably happening all over the area.  We'll just have to make do.  I saw plenty of Coleman lamps in the storage cabinet."  He pushed off the couch and moved to add more wood to the fire, the additional fuel casting a cherry red-orange light into the rapidly darkening room.  "Don't worry about it, we've got plenty of wood.  We can close off the rest of the cabin and camp out in here."

"I'm not worried," Sandburg said.  "I've spent time in more primitive settings than this.  I just hate the cold."

Ellison glanced over his shoulder at the younger man.  "I forget that sometimes."

"What?  That I hate the cold?"

"No, that you've had more experiences than most men twice your age."

Blair dipped his head, a slight smile on his lips.  "Yeah, well, thank Naomi for that.  She dragged me all over the world; she also gave me the idea about being an anthropologist."

"Yea, mom."

Sandburg chuckled softly as he stood and walked over to be closer fire. He met Jim's probing gaze and shook his head.  "This is so… I don't know, unbelievable."

"Why?"

Blair leaned forward slightly.  "Because you just radiate 'straight', man."

Jim's eyebrows peaked and fell, a wry expression settling on his face.  "Survival mechanism.  Had to in order to make it through the Army and Cascade PD.  Besides, I swing that way, too."

Blair nodded.  "I know that, but–"

"Don't talk to me about women, Chief, you're like a dog–"

"I know, I know," Blair interrupted.  "But just because I date a lot or women doesn't mean I sleep with all of them."

"You mean you don't?" Jim asked, a mixture of surprise and disbelief on his face.

"I'm not saying I'm a virgin or anything," Blair countered.  "I like women," he said, adding quickly, "as friends.  Sometimes as lovers, okay?  Maybe it was growing up with Naomi, but I enjoy talking to women.  They think different.  They look at things in a different way than we do.  It's… insightful."

"And men?"

"Men are… different."  Blair stood, his hands snaking into his pockets. 

"Different?"

The anthropologist stopped and turned to face Ellison.  "I enjoy men as friends, too, don't get me wrong."

"Sandburg, you like people.  There's nothing wrong with that."

"I know.  And as far as sex goes, I mean, I like women, but it's always been men who really get me off in that…  Really."  He made a pounding gesture with his hands.  "I don't know how to explain it, really.  If that makes me gay–"

"You're not gay, Sandburg, no more than I am.  Bi, maybe, if you have to have something to call it.  Look, I understand what you're talking about.  It's okay.  That's why we're here, right?  To decide what kind of relationship we're going to have?"

"I know what I want."  He moved as Jim stood, capturing Ellison in a tight hug.

Jim's hands automatically came up to encircle the younger man.  "What're you doing, Chief?"

"This is what I want, Jim.  You.  I want you.  I want us to be partners on and off the job."  He took a step back.  "But I don't know if that's what you want.  That's why I wanted us to come up here, so we could talk about this.  And I can deal with whatever you decide, okay?  I mean, whatever it is."

"You can?"

Blair nodded.  "The most important thing is that we deal with your Sentinel abilities, I know that.  And if having a more intimate relationship is going to put that in danger–"

"You mean you're more worried about your dissertation than us?"

"That's not what I said, Jim.  I care about _you_ more than I can put into words.  But you're a cop, man.  We've got to do whatever it takes to keep you safe out there.  But that's not to say that I don't also want us to–"

Ellison rewarded him with a throaty chuckle.  "I see what you're getting at, Chief."

A soft scratching echoed in the room as the kit rolled over and stretched out along the opposite side of the box.

"What about our visitor?" Blair asked.

"Let him watch," Jim suggested, moving to close the gap between them.  Dipping his head, he nibbled softly on Sandburg's neck.

Blair's arms came up to encircle his lover, pulling him into a tight embrace.  "Are you really sure about this?  I mean, like–"

"I'm sure, Blair," he said, blue gaze locking on Sandburg's.  "I'm sure. There's nothing wrong with wanting it all."

They wrestled playfully to the floor, Jim using his size and strength to ensure they both arrived on the thick carpet unharmed.  Hands attacked buttons, zippers, and laces with equal fury; the two men managed to scatter clothing across and carpet within a few minutes.  Naked, they stretched out side by side in front of the fire, each marveling over the other.  Tentative touches turned to caresses, then to something more insistent.

Involved as they were, both men missed the inquisitive dark-brown eyes that peered out at them from an opening between the slats of the crate.

Blair's lips came down to capture Jim's.  Ellison retaliated, his hands sliding across the young man's bare chest, teasing already hard nipples.  He chuckled as Blair ground his hips forward and groaned.  Their mouths opened, each eager to taste the other.

A soft cry from the crate was ignored, as were the frantic scratching noises.

"Oh, man, that feels so good," Blair whispered as their lips parted and Jim's fingers raked heavily down his abdomen and over his hip, cupping one buttock possessively.  He snuggled closer to nibble on Jim's earlobe.

Ellison buried his face in the hair at his lover's neck, nuzzling through the long strands to the skin below.  Starting a steady assault down the curve of Blair's neck to the waiting collarbone and beyond, Jim shifted the dynamic, winning the upper hand.

Blair sucked in a sharp breath, causing the kit to freeze and cock his head as Jim shifted to a more frontal attack on the graduate student, who moaned in total surrender when a warm tongue circled a nipple, then tried to press it flat.

"Don't stop, man!" Blair complained, pressing his hips up against Jim's thigh.  When there was no response, he craned his neck back, trying to follow the detective's line of sight.  "What?"

"Our guest is awake," Ellison replied with a slight smile.  "Guess he's going to be okay."

Blair growled and sat up, grabbing Jim by the shoulders and forcing him over onto his back.  In one swift, graceful move the younger man straddled Jim's abdomen.

"Hey!  What–?"

Sandburg leaned down, his lips pressing down on Jim's, cutting off the rest of the reply.  Now _he_ had the upper hand, and he intended to keep it.

When they surfaced for air Jim reached up, pushing the long hair away from Blair's face.  "You're something else, you know that?"

Blair grinned.  "Just keep telling me that, okay?  I get a little insecure."

"You?" Jim asked.  "Insecure?"

Sandburg shrugged, then grinned.  "Well, no, not really, but I do like to hear it."

Ellison bent his knees and pressed his feet against the soft carpet, then lifted his hips, pressing the crown of his cock tight against the cool skin of the younger man's buttocks.

"Think we'll be warm enough?" Blair asked, scooting back slightly, making Jim moan when the tip of his cock met the tight ring of puckered flesh.

"Oh, we'll be warm enough," Jim promised.  "All it takes is a little friction."

The raccoon, finding the activity too much to ignore, lunged for the side of the crate, his front paws landing solidly on the lip of the wooden box and tipping it almost over.  It wasn't enough to win him his freedom, but it was far enough for the animal to spot the loose lid, and a moment later it wiggled out of the box.

Sandburg, intent on his final victory over the squirming detective, missed the spill of fur that tumbled from the crate and went sliding across the top of the coffee table.  The raccoon's claws sought traction, tapping across the polished wood until they snagged the edge of the table next to where Jim and Blair lay tangled.

One short jump and the small package of fur landed on Ellison's thigh, a cold wet nose finding a particularly vulnerable target to investigate.

"Ahhhh!" the Sentinel bellowed, his head coming up, eyes wide and unfocused.

"What?" Blair gasped, his own pleasure wavering between completion and foundering.

Jim's hips bucked up off the floor, nearly unseating Blair, whose arms flew out for balance.  He caught himself on his hands, resting on either side of Jim's head.

"What is wrong with you, man?" Sandburg demanded before his own eyes rounded and one hand whipped backwards, trying to grab the handful of fur as it scampered up the back of his leg, sharp nails leaving small punctures in their wake.

"Aaahhh!"  Blair fell forward onto Ellison's chest as he reached back with his other hand, trying to apprehend his attacker.

"Sandburg!" Jim wheezed, as the anthropologist's full weight pressed him into the carpet.

"Watch out, man, the coon's on the loose!"

The two men scrambled apart, each coming up on his knees in a defensive posture, their gazes sweeping the room for the creature.

"Do you see him?" Blair asked, reaching back to check if the tiny sharp claws had left his butt and the back of his thighs bleeding.  They hadn't.

"Not yet," Jim said, using his Sentinel skills to listen for the raccoon.  "Over there," he said, pointing.  "Get the crate."

Beside the woodpile the tiny creature watched the pair, trying to decide if it was in any danger.  They were getting closer… closer…

"Got 'im!" Blair crowed.

Jim nodded.  "Good work, Chief."

"We have to find a way to keep the lid on tight."

"Here," Jim said, taking the crate with its chittering contents and setting it back next to the woodpile.  Choosing two larger chunks of wood he set them on top of the box, then added a third for additional security and waited while the raccoon tried to push the lid open a second time.  It failed miserably.

"That should do it."

"I think he's fine, man.  Why don't we just let him go?"

Jim considered for a moment.  "All right.  He did seem fine, didn't he?"

"Better than fine," Blair replied, checking his butt again.  "Those claws are sharp!"

"Just be glad he didn't decide to take a bite out of one of us."

"Nightmare city, man."

Jim nodded, reaching for his clothes.

"Hey, what're you doing?"

"Well, I'm not taking him outside in the all-together."

"Yeah, talk about blue balls," Blair muttered softly.

"Exactly."

"Let him wait," Blair suggested as he moved in on Jim.  "We've got some unfinished business to take care of first."

Ellison chuckled softly.  "I do like a man with a sense of what's important."

"And I like a man who–"

Ellison cut him off with a kiss, the two rolling closer to the fire to finish what they'd started.  In his crate the tiny raccoon watched, his dark eyes twinkling with curiosity.


End file.
